


My Diary in Oz

by Loki_is_on_crack



Category: The Wizard Of Oz (1939)
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-07
Updated: 2008-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_is_on_crack/pseuds/Loki_is_on_crack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An open-minded gentleman drops into Oz, and finds that as pleasant as it is, he really can't stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Diary in Oz

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one several years ago and posted it originally in my own LJ. It was inspired partly by the thought that it must be a really weird feeling, finding yourself in a musical with no warning... and partly by a friend wishing that someone would drop a house on Fred Phelps. A couple of the references in this fic are now a bit dated; I've included hyperlinks to explain them.

May 5:

A tornado has picked up my cottage and dropped it somewhere. I don't know where, but I don't think it's on Earth. It sure as hell isn't Kansas. Kansas looks gray compared to the riot of colors I'm seeing here. It seems to affect me as well; my faded black jeans turn blue as I step outside, and turn black again as I go back into my house. My flannel shirt also changes color, to green.

 

May 6:

I passed out yesterday from too much adrenalin. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Let's see how well you take it when some random storm picks up your house with you in it. I didn't soil myself, so I think I handled it quite well.

When I opened my door, I found a few hundred people waiting outside, cheering for me. In a song and dance number that had to have taken them weeks to rehearse, they informed me that my house fell on an evil sorcerer. All that was left of him was his cowboy hat (which they said now belonged to me), and a sign that said "God Hates Fags."

I'm told that there's a benevolent wizard who can help me get home, but I think I like this place better. Very friendly folks here. Granted, the hero worship makes me a little nervous, but I figure they'll realize I'm just a regular dude like they are, soon enough.

 

May 7:

So much for staying. Everyone here is gay. All the guys here think I'd be a good catch, but that's not the part that bothers me. As far as I can tell, all of the women are grateful to me for landing on that evil sorceror, and they're happy to get to know me, but they all like other women. I asked them if guys and gals ever did... you know, things together. They looked at me like I was speaking Swahili, and then became very nervous, almost scared of me.

I guess I'll be visiting that wizard after all. The people here are still very nice, but I'm not cut out for lifelong celibacy, and even the thought of doing things with other guys just feels off to me.

They understood where I was coming from. In another song and dance routine, they told me that the yellow paved road beneath my feet would take me to the wizard. The chorus of this song was some lines about how I was now a famous hero, and all I had to do was ask for help, and I'd receive it.

 

May 8:

I'd originally intended to make my own way to the wizard without asking for help (I'm proud and stubborn like that), but he's several hundred miles away, and there are no motor vehicles here, so I'm really glad people have offered. Tonight, a guy offered me a hot meal, a bath, and a bed, and I accepted his offer only because he made it before several other people did.

Note to self: when a guy offers you a bed here, that can have multiple meanings. I had to explain to him, as gently as possible, that I lean toward women, and that this was as natural for me as his leaning toward men was for him. We spent an hour talking about it. Nothing awkward or anything -- he wasn't trying to tell me "don't knock it 'til you try it" or anything. It was more curiosity on his part; he's never met a straight guy before, and I'm only the second he's even heard of. Apparently, that evil sorceror I landed on was the first.

That explains why those people were scared of me when I first said I liked girls. Like me, he was straight. Unlike me, he thought this was the only right way for anyone to be. (I may have been a little bit like that, once, but having a younger brother who's gay tends to make you grow up a little.)

 

May 9:

I said my goodbyes to the guy who put me up last night, and walked another ten miles or so. This time, a lady with a small child offered to feed me and give me a place to sleep.

She was very cute, but sadly, "a place to sleep" meant just that. She talked with me, too, and was just as confused as my last host. She didn't do those things I was asking about with men -- only other men did them. She'd be happy to introduce me to a few. In fact, she wouldn't mind watching. It might give her something to write about later.

I was tempted to ask her where her toddler came from, but I figured it would sound like I was pressuring her to put out. I don't know what you've heard about Kansas, but we are civilized there. No still means no.

 

May 14:

Well, this was bizarre. My current host invited me into his home for a good meal, a bath, and a bed -- with a song. It was a good one, too. He must have spent a whole week on it.

That's not the bizarre part. the bizarre part is that I accepted his invitation in song myself. Completely off the cuff, but it rhymed perfectly, and it sounded good. I got a lot of compliments from passersby on my singing voice.

There's something weird about this place. In Kansas, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. How am I singing well, and in perfect harmony, with people here?

 

May 15:

Note to self: As with offers of a bed, when a guy offers you a bath here, that can also have multiple meanings.

 

May 16:

I have a new companion. She apparently has no brain at all, and yet she's able to talk. She's a little like [our President](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_W._Bush) that way. She told me all about it in a song of her own, and to my own surprise, it turned into a duet between me and her. That's twice in two days that I sang. This place is starting to get under my skin.

She's not bad, though. I may not have a chance with her sexually, but she's a farmgirl, so I can relate to her. I used to be a farmboy, until I went into construction, and then contracting.

I asked her where children come from. Apparently, children are created by magic here. The wizard must be one busy guy.

 

June 2:

Now I'm escorting two women to see the wizard: a farmgirl, and a lady in a metallic body-stocking. Unfortunately, the body-stocking is too tight, and it cuts off her circulation so she can't move. As a result, I occasionally have to peel it off of her and massage life back into her muscles, which is only making my current frustration worse.

She doesn't understand my kind of love (between a man and a woman) or the kind that's so common here (between men, or between women)... or for that matter, any kind of love at all. She sang a mournful song about not having feelings, which the brainless wonder and I turned into a duet by overpowering her in the relative major key.

Whatever the hell "relative major key" means. The phrase just popped into my head.

 

June 19:

Now there are four of us. The new guy is good-looking and beefy, and if any of the women I know in Kansas met him, they'd cry once they learned he was gay. He's also very nearly naked: all he's wearing is a g-string with a semi-see-through pouch (and a lion's tail attached to the back), and cat ears made out of felt. Of course, he has a reason to see the wizard, too, and his story turned into a song and dance, but I only remember a few of his lines:

_"You can see I'm really handsome,_  
_I'm made for hot romancin'_  
_with guys in hot pursuit._  
_In this costume you can see my nuts,_  
_but still I don't quite have the guts_  
_to wear my fur suit."_

(I didn't ask what a fursuit was. Something tells me I'd rather not know.)

As we all started dancing, this turned into another surprise for me. In Kansas, I had two left feet. I couldn't even square-dance, let alone do any dance moves that were _good._ Here, I was doing things Fred Astaire would have admired.

So lately, I can dance like the devil and sing like an angel. Now, If only there were women here I could woo with these new talents. I wonder if I'll still have these talents when I get back home.

 

July 2:

I'm still being offered free room and board everywhere I go, and the offers have also been good for my companions. Really good, especially for the catboy. One of my hosts came on to me, and I told him that I wasn't into men, but that my friend with the cat ears was. The next morning, my host and the catboy both had sloppy grins on their faces. That's since become a routine, and the catboy has thanked me for that repeatedly.

Sadly, still no straight women. I'm getting to know my left hand very well, but it's still not helping all that much. And still, my hosts have always propositioned me first, never mind that catboy is better-looking than I am. Either they figure he's no challenge, or that hero worship thing hasn't worn off the way I'd hoped.

On the other hand, that same hero worship is helping me stay fed and well-rested on my trip to see the wizard, so I guess I can't complain.

 

July 14:

Well, I discovered yet another talent I never had until I got here. These are really starting to add up.

When we got into this town, we found that there was a great festival. Lots of food, jugglers, jesters, musicians... and a large stage. A few guys pulled me on stage and handed me a guitar, and to my own surprise, I found that I could play it. Damned well, too. For about a half-hour, I played a bunch of songs that I'd never heard before -- they just all popped into my head, fully realized.

On the plus side, I got laid. I apparently made a very strong impression on some girls in the audience, and they asked me if they could try out that whole "opposite sex" thing with me. I accepted... and what I thought would be perfect bliss turned out to be bittersweet. There's a certain pride and honor in knowing you're the first guy a lady has slept with, as well as a certain sadness in knowing you're probably also going to be the last.

I don't care how many of my friends back home dream of being taken to bed by two curious lesbians -- I don't think I'll be doing this again. My left hand may be old and familiar, but it beats feeling like I used someone. It also beats feeling like I've been used.

(They tell me that babies aren't "natural" here -- they're created by magic. This is a good thing, since I didn't have condoms...)

 

July 18:

We are ten miles away from the wizard's city, and it's clearly visible from here. All that stands between us is a huge field of poppies.

 

July 22:

We've apparently slept for three days. I only awoke because I was having very vivid nightmares about me and the catboy. I'd really rather not go into those...

Anyway, the farmgirl seems curiously unaffected. The two of us hauled catboy and the ice queen to the other end of the poppy field, and they woke up.

Anyway, we're now at the edge of the poppy field. The other three are asleep. I'm afraid to go to sleep, myself. Can't sleep. Clowns will eat me... but replace "clowns" with "catboy's overtaxed codpiece."

 

July 23:

Well, we saw the damned wizard. He says he'll get me home, but first I have to do him a favor. He wants me to retrieve the broomstick belonging to another evil sorceror. My friends are all coming with me, to help. If I don't write anything after this, it's because we all got our dumb asses killed.

 

July 25:

We got to the impenetrable lair of the evil sorceror. It was a big-ass castle that dominated everything else around it, and it had a great big marquee in lights. "Welcome to the impenetrable lair of the evil sorceror of the west. I'd run like Hell if I were you!"

Subtle, it was not. Nor was it impenetrable. The dumb farmgirl was the only one of us who thought to just try opening the door -- the rest of us tried fiddling with the lock, which was apparently just there for show.

We also found a bunch of slaves locked up in the sorceror's foyer, and the ice queen in the metallic body stocking suddenly found she had a heart. She couldn't bear to leave them there, so she rescued them all.

Before too long, we got to the sorceror's inner sanctum, and heard the most horrible noises coming from within, and wouldn't you know it? It was the cowardly catboy who had the courage to open the door...

...only to find that the evil sorceror was already dead. Talk about anticlimax. [He'd apparently tied himself up while he was wearing two wetsuits](http://www.thesmokinggun.com/documents/crime/dead-reverends-rubber-fetish). Anyway, we retrieved his broom, as instructed. Trust me, you don't want to know [where we found it](http://www.icd10data.com/ICD10CM/Codes/S00-T88/T15-T19/T18-/T18.5).

 

July 30:

That fucking wizard is a fraud. He had no intention of helping me get home, and even if he did, he doesn't have any magical power at all.

On the plus side, I've figured out where babies come from in this place. All the women who have children think that the wizard is the one who made it possible. In a way, they're right. Maybe I should learn sorcery. If I learn the right spell, my brother can be carried here by another tornado, and his house will land on this damned wizard. Besides, he's gay. He'll be right at home here.

Maybe I'll just pull the brim of my cowboy hat down, and chant "there's no place like home." After all, I took it from an evil sorceror -- there must be some power to it.

 

July 31:

Holy shit, I can't believe that worked.

 

August 6:

I've been home for a week, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about something: I had unprotected sex with two women there, on the night of that festival. They thought that it took magic to create babies. What if they're wrong?


End file.
